


The Last Words of Rex Marksley

by JustAnotherMadOne



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Death from Old Age, Gen, Letters, Mention of The Jon, Mentions of pre transition Rabbit, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7166903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherMadOne/pseuds/JustAnotherMadOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'And he died an old man alone on the prairie they say'</p><p>But before the great marksman Rex Marksley passed away, he received a letter from a fan from San Diego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Words of Rex Marksley

**Author's Note:**

> Why, yes, I have written a Steam Powered Giraffe fanfiction! Why, yes, it is about a cowboy who shot lightning from his hands and disarmed 40 bandits with 2 gunshots!
> 
> But yes, I want to make a more introspective fic about the dude and besides, I've got some other SPG fics lined up, so keep an eye out. :)
> 
> Oh, and I mentioned Rabbit from before her transition, but it's more of a brief line than anything else; I think it matters more that she is who she is now and that she can be the woman she always was.

** The Last Words of Rex Marksley **

 2nd April 1917

 The sun had already set on the temperate day, giving way for the cold chill of the spring wind to blow across the prairie. All the animals were retreating to their dens, waiting for the next morning to come.

 However, one such creature was still awake, although he still had a little more time before doing so.

 Rex Marksley – the renowned gunslinger and hero of the West.

 However, it had been many years since he had been called that for the first time – fifty-two years, if he remember correctly – and Rex was certain that those days were coming to a close. After all, at his age of seventy three, he could feel his bones creak and groan with every movement, his once eagle-sharp eyes could barely make out the dead shrubbery outside of his cabin’s window, and he couldn’t help but feel tired with every long walk he did from the cabin to the nearest town and back.

 He was dying and he knew it.

 And that was fine by him.

 He knew it was his twilight years and he had seen so many things throughout his life, so maybe it was about time that he left it behind. After all, he may have had regrets, but he was happy.

 The old man coughed loudly, pouring himself a cup of coffee for himself and adding a shot of whiskey; a little tradition he began after the ordeal with the Demon Train. He sat down at his desk, looking out of the window and out to the prairie. His steel horse was powered down and Rex couldn’t help but wonder just how long until the poor mare would have to stay powered down for good. The wind rustled the patches of dry grass and a wolf howled in the far distance.

 He sipped his coffee and blinked a few times. Did he just see something? Probably nothing.

 Then again…

 Rex put his cup down and shuffled wearily to the front door of his cabin, throwing it open to the night. He squinted into the dark, trying to make out the tiny shape that was fast approaching. “Who’s out there?” He called out. “Now, I might be old, but I can still shoot a nose hair off a shaved mule!”

 He did not gain a response, but the shape came closer, revealing tawny fur and… antlers?

 A jackalope.

 The old man couldn’t help but laugh as he recognised this creature in particular, although he quirked an eyebrow when he saw it was holding something in its yellowing teeth. “Haven’t seen you much ‘round here, Oakley.” He said, crouching down (his knees clicking uncomfortably as he did) to pet the small creature. “What d’you got there, huh?”

 The jackalope squeakily honked, sounding almost like a broken yodel. It sat back on its haunches and presented the object; an envelope with black smears on the corners.

 Rex took the envelope with a shaking hand, the object given up easily. He rose back to his feet and went back indoors. He paused and turned his head to Oakley, smiling and tilting his head slightly. “Y’comin’ in or not?” He asked. “Ain’t exactly a palace, but it’s gotta be better than out there.”

 The jackalope sneezed before hopping inside the cabin and settling by Rex’s rickety bed. The old man closed the cabin door and took a small handful of biscuits from his desk and tossed a few to the small creature.

 “Now what’s this letter all about?” He asked, grabbing a pair of silver reading glasses – a present from his tax attorney and close friend, Coinsley; he missed that son of a gun so much. Rex shakily put the spectacles on, perching them on the end of his aquiline nose. He took a look at the envelope, hoping to see where it had come from.

 He couldn’t help but chuckle. “All the way from San Diego!” He chortled, a smile growing on his lips. “Now what does a fancy San Diego person want with me?”

 Oakley didn’t say a word.

 Rex slowly turned the envelope over and began to pick away at the flap, pulling off small pieces of paper. He dug his thumb into the hole he had made and forced it through the rest of the envelope, tearing it open. He carefully took the letter out and unfolded it. At first glance, it was obvious that someone went to a lot of effort to make it all fancy and clean for him. The words were obviously not hand-written; must have been done by an awfully fancy typewriter.

  _Dear Mr Marksley,_

_I know this may seem odd, but_

 The old man reached out for the cup of coffee and took a swig, the taste of whiskey burning the back of his throat. This letter looked like it would be interesting. Not a lot of people even tried to contact him nowadays, so what would this person want? He started over.

  _Dear Mr Marksley,_

_I know this may seem odd, but I wanted to write to you and just be able to talk to you. I suppose it is only fair that I introduce myself since, despite that I know so much about you, you most likely never even knew I existed until this moment. My name is The Spine. I am an automaton made by Colonel Peter A Walter of San Diego._

 Rex blinked. An automaton? Didn’t that mean one of those metal men? Then again, he vaguely remembered reading something about a ‘Steam Man Band’ doing a show. But it had been a long while, so he could not recall the precise details; another curse of his advancing age. More questions did come to Rex the more he thought about it; mainly, what was a tin man doing, writing to him? Wouldn’t they be busy doing whatever it was that tin men did?

  _I am normally meant to stay in the Walter family home unless something is needed that involves me or my siblings. However, even as I cannot leave the manor, a few of the servants here have gone and bought several things that I sometimes look at. One day, I saw one of them was a pulp novel – and it was about you; ‘Rex Marksley and the Rattlesnake King’, to be precise._

 The mention of the foe made a boisterous chuckle spring forth from Rex’s lips, only stopping when he began coughing. That was certainly a day to remember, he still had scars on his right thigh and his shoulders from the reptilian villain’s bite; luckily, Coinsley had helped take the poison out before too much damage could be done.

  _I was enthralled from that moment on. I wanted to know more about you and so I tried to collect as much as I could. I have a copy of all of those pulp novels now and I’ve read them so much, I’m surprised they haven’t fallen apart. I was mystified by your adventures and just how many of them you had gone on. I admire you for every last one. Knowing that you were somewhere out there and helping others in need, it gave me some hope for what’s going on. I’ve heard Colonel Walter talk about a war coming and I’m scared. But, again, knowing that there are heroes like you, makes me feel less scared._

 The old man blinked, finishing the cup of coffee in one gulp. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He wasn’t sure what to think so far now. This ‘automaton’ seemed a little too… human. He was so used to people singing the wax lyrical about him, but they were all flesh and bone, not… whatever it was ‘The Spine’ was made of. Most of the ones he had met who were made of metal or partly made of metal were the no good bandits and crooks he had fought over the years. To feel such passion and… vulnerability in those words was more than a little disconcerting for the old man. He turned his head to look at Oakley, who had flopped onto her side and was humming contently. He smiled and looked back to the letter.

  _I know you must have heard these words many times and maybe even many more in the future, but you are my greatest hero. I want to be as strong as you. As kind as you. I want to be like you and be able to protect my family; they care for me and I care them even more. I can only hope that I can even be half as great as you are. In every way, you are a real hero. I suppose I merely have one question that I wanted to ask; how does one become a hero? Is it your deeds? Your heart? What is it that makes someone a hero? I have been unable to help but wonder about that for several days now._

 Rex leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. It was true that so many people had called him a hero and wanted to be like him, but most of the time it was little kids that said that. They were wrapped up in the fantasy of what it was like to be him, even if they didn’t know just what happened; the injuries, the brushes with death and losing things you cared about… Rex certainly didn’t feel like a hero for a very long time. Not since Coinsley died.

 It was an accident. A bank robbery was going on and he was simply trying to break it up before it got worse, but the guns came out and a shootout ensued. In the aftermath, the criminals were arrested… and Coinsley was on the ground, bleeding. During the crossfire, a stray bullet had lodged into his chest and Rex knew there was nothing he could do, except hold his friend and keep him company until the end.

 That moment weighed heavily on his conscience.

 However, the question itself made the gunslinger think. What DID make a hero? Was it something as silly as a costume or persona? Was it what you do and your intentions? Was it how others saw you? It was a word he had been associated with for such a long time, but not once did he consider why he, in particular, was deemed a hero, when there were people who worked hard to get food for their babies, to get medicines for their loved ones, to teach what they knew…

 Rex shook his head and continued to read.

  _I have to stop now, but I hope this letter finds its way to you someday. My elder brother, Rabbit, thinks it is silly, but I do not mind that being said. My younger brother, The Jon, loves the idea of me writing. He even told me to ask you to come over to our house. I have to help them go to sleep now; The Jon loves being read bedtime stories and Rabbit likes lullabies. I love telling them about you and it would be an honour to meet you or even just to know that you read this letter._

_Thank you for being an inspiration._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_The Spine_

 Rex carefully placed the letter down and sniffed, feeling something run down his cheek. He shakily wiped away the treacherous tear and continued to stare at the letter. His heart clenched slightly at the mention of The Spine’s ‘siblings’. It may have only been a few words, but he could tell just how much care and love there was in those words. Yet, something else stirred within the old man and he slowly smiled as soon as he realised what it was.

 Admiration.

 Yes, even if this was the only time he had heard of ‘The Spine’, he already admired the ‘automaton’. It was obvious that this was a kind soul and even if the gunslinger wasn’t completely sure how someone mad of metal could be so human, he could feel every last bit of feeling that went into it.

 He turned his head back to Oakley, who had fallen asleep and was chattering in her sleep. “Hey, Oakley, git up!” He called out, making the Jackalope jump upright. “You mind stayin’ up a lil’ longer? I have somethin’ I want ya to deliver.”

 So, for the next hour and a half, Rex carefully and precisely wrote another letter, making sure every word and letter was shaped perfectly and not a single drop of ink was spilt. Each detail was meticulous and even as Rex’s hands shook, he managed to finish his response. It took a few more minutes to find an envelope of his own, sliding the letter into it. He smiled as he sealed it shut and wrote down the necessary details and sticking a stamp in the corner.

 He held out the letter to Oakley, who took it into her mouth. “Now Oakley, I want you t’run to town and send that message.” He said, shakily stroking the jackalope’s head. “Please. You’ll help an ol’ coot out, won’t ya?”

 Oakley honked, once again sounding like a yodel. With that, Oakley hopped to the cabin door and nudged it open, running out into the night.

 Rex smiled as he watched the jackalope go, knowing that Oakley was one smart critter and that she would be in the town by sunrise. He closed the door and locked it, standing still for a moment. “I dunno if we’re ever gonna meet.” He said out loud, turning on his heel and walking to his bed. “But… I’m mighty honoured to know ‘bout ya… Th’Spine.” 

 With those words, Rex slid into his bed and extinguished the oil lamp on his bedside table, laying down in the yellowing sheets and shutting his eyes…

 Unknowing that during the night, his heart would stop beating and his lungs would take in its last breath, and that Rex Marksley would be in that eternal sleep.

* * * * * * *

7th June 2016

 “Hey, The Spine!”

 The silver automaton looked up when he heard Hatchworth call out his name, smiling slightly. The three automatons had decided to do some spring cleaning around the manor and in the process; it turned into a treasure hunt. Rabbit had insisted that everyone find something that used to belong to someone and the one with most items by the end, was the winner. So far, she had found several dolls, clothes and drawings. However, despite her enthusiasm for the game, only Hatchworth was playing along with her.

 The Spine walked casually over to his bandmate, carrying a box of vinyl LP’s in his arms. “What is it Hatchy?” He asked.

 The brass bot smiled, pointing to a huge box filled with books and smaller tins. “Rabbit found these and she wanted you to see them.” He explained, bending down to pick out a few boxes. “But, she had taken one of them and she was really certain you would want it.”

 At that, The Spine raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

 “This!”

 The introduction of the third voice made the two bots startle and turn to the newcomer, who was smiling and holding a rusted tin in her hands. “I-I-I-I-I saw it in there and I knew you would blow fuse if you saw it.” She said with a cheeky glint in her optics. “But, I know it’ll make you super-duper excited!”

 She held the tin out and the silver automaton couldn’t stop the surprised, yet elated smile from crossing his own expression. The tin was old and rusted, but you could still make out the figure on it; a man in white riding a silver horse, riding across the prairie with a flock of jackalope. On the bottom of the tin, in grandiose writing, said ‘Rex Marksley! Finest Marksman in the West!’

 The Spine took the tin with trembling hands, treating the tin as if it were made of glass. “I… I haven’t seen this since Vietnam! I did wonder where it had gone.” He said, voice quiet and nostalgic. “Rabbit… thank you.”

 The pink-haired bot smiled. “No problem, Spine!” She insisted, bouncing on her heels. “Come on n-n-n-n-now. Open it up! There must be something in there!”

 The silver automaton did not have to be told twice as he flicked the lid open and peered inside. The tin still held all the things that The Spine had placed in there, gathered over the years. There was an old yoyo, a wind-up toy resembling a horse, a small deck of tattered trading cards, coins, tickets to cowboy shows and rodeos…

 And at the bottom of the tin, yellowing with age but with no other damage on it, was an envelope.

 Hatchworth blinked when he saw the envelope. “Spine, what’s that?” He asked. “Who’s it from?”

 The Spine smiled and handed the tin back to Rabbit, so that he could carefully pry the envelope from its confines. “I… never expected a reply…” He began, his voice quiet. “We were sent to the frontlines a few days after I sent the first letter… but when we came home, it was there on the table…”

 The moustachioed robot glanced over to Rabbit, who was smiling softly at her brother.

 The Spine held the envelope out, revealing the name of the sender.

 ‘Rex Marksley’.

 Hatchworth gasped. “You wrote to Rex Marksley!? And you got a letter back too!” He cried, optics sparkling with wonder and excitement. “What did he say? What did he say?”

 The silver automaton chuckled, carefully removing the letter from the envelope and seeing the carefully written, if somewhat shaky, words on the aging paper brought back the memory of reading it for the first time. After a pause, he began to read aloud.

 “ _Dear The Spine,_

_Firstly, I am honoured that you’ve taken the time to write me a letter. I’ll admit, as I read it, I could tell just how much you put into it. But what struck me the most was how you talked about your siblings. It’s pretty darn obvious that you care deeply for them. Now, I never had a brother or a sister, but I admire that you are so loving towards them._

_You would be surprised how very little people write to me nowadays. I used to get bags full of letters back in my heyday. Then again, it’s been sixty-something years since then, so I’m not that surprised._

_Back to my point, just reading your letter made me feel happy. I felt everything you were saying and I felt all the heart you put into what you were saying. We need a lot more people in the world who can show that much emotion in such a tiny package._

_As for your question – even after all of my adventures, I don’t know the answer._

_For my whole life, being a hero meant being a knight, someone who swoops in to save the damsel or stop the villain. You said you’ve heard of all my adventures, so you can see why someone could say I’m a hero for that. But, I’ve made a lot of mistakes too, ones I’m not proud of. Even though I made them, so people still call me a hero. Why is that? I wondered._

_I think reading your letter gave me a possible answer._

_It’s your heart that makes you a hero. Your drive to do good and do what is right. It could be anything from building a house for someone or even as small as giving an old man an extra quarter. I’ve seen a lot of people in my day who should be called heroes, but they aren’t called that. It’s the people who teach, heal, and love others with everything they have. That drive to do good and remain humble and sure of themselves._

_You say you want to be a hero. I say you already are one._

_I don’t know anything about a war, but you said you want to protect your siblings and you obviously show such immense love for them. You said about reading them stories and singing lullabies because they like them, well, I say that shows you care. I am certain that they love you too._

_You’re their hero._

_And I think that is the point. Anyone can be a hero. It can be your sibling, your kid, your parent, your teacher, or your friend. I have had a lot of people in my life who were all heroes to me. I am sure there are many others who already see you as their own hero. So, you have to keep your heart about you and continue to do good and you’ll be the greatest dang hero out there._

_I have to stop now, but I am honoured to have received your letter and to hear such passion. I’m not sure if we’ll ever meet, but I am happy to know that there are people like you out there in the world._

_Keep on riding._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Rex Marksley._ ”

 The Spine’s smile had grown as he had read the letter, feeling that same warmth of excitement and awe he had felt when he first received it. Rabbit smiled as well, just pleased to see that her brother was so happy. However, Hatchworth had oily tears built up in his optics.

 “That was so beautiful, Spine!” He whined, practically lunging towards the silver automaton and taking him into a tight hug.

 “Careful, d-d-dummins!” Rabbit laughed, carefully pulling the two apart just enough so she could take the letter and envelope out of The Spine’s hands and back into its tin. She carefully placed it to the side and moved forward, joining in with the hug. “But, he is right. You are our h-h-h-hero, Spine!”

 Hatchworth nodded, tears running down his cheeks. “Yes! We love you so much!” He sobbed, overwhelmed by emotion.

 The silver automaton’s smile became more serene and he hugged his siblings a little tighter. “Thank you.” He said quietly, feeling tears of his own building up. “And… you’re my heroes too. Both of you.”

 The three robots remained in that hug for the longest time, simply content being each other’s presence, united by the last true words of the man known as Rex Marksley.

END


End file.
